“Why, that everything's right, of coorse,” replied the other; “any man that strives to keep the Millstone about our necks desarves his fate; at the same time,” he added, dropping his voice still lower, “I'd as soon not be the man to do the deed, neighbor.” “Well, I can't say,” returned our friend, “but I'm a trifle of your way of thinkin'.” “There's one thing troubles me,” added his companion, an' it's this--there was a young lad wid us to-night from my neighborhood, he was near the last of us as we went along the road on our way to the mountains; I seen him whisperin' to some one a good deal as we came out--now, I know there's not on airth a kinder-hearted or more affectionate boy than he is; he hasn't a heart to hurt a fly, and is loved and respected by every one in the neighborhood. Very well! God of glory! isn't it too bad, that this one, handsome, lovin', and affectionate boy, the only child of his father and mother,--_fareer gair_ (* Bitter misfortune.)--my friend, whoever you are, isn't it too bad, that that boy, innocent and harmless as a child, will go home to his lovin' parents a murdherer this night?” “What makes you say so?” asked our unknown friend. “Why,” replied the man, “he stood beside me in the ranks, and has been sent to murdher the man that was doomed.” To this our friend judiciously avoided making any reply, the fact being that several individuals in high trust among these Whiteboys were occasionally employed to sound suspected persons, in order to test their sincerity. For about half a minute he spoke not; but at length he said, with something like sternness-- “There's no use in sich talk as this, my friend; every man that joins us must make up his mind to do his duty to God and his country.” “It's a quare way of sarvin' God to commit midnight murdher on his creatures,” responded the man with energy. “I don't know who you are,” replied our friend, “but if you take my advice, you'll not hould such conversation wid every man you spake to in this body. Wid me you're safe, but at the same time, I say, don't draw suspicion on yourself, and it'll be betther for you.” “Who is this man?” asked the other, who appeared to have been borne away a good deal by his feelings, “that commands us?” “Don't you know Captain Midnight?” replied the other, somewhat evasively. “Why, of coorse I know the man by that name; but, at the same time, I know nothin' else about him.” “Did you never hear?” asked his companion. “Why, to tell you the truth,” said the other, “I heerd it said that he's the _Cannie Soogah_, or the Jolly Pedlar that goes about the country.” “Well,” said the other, lowering his voice a good deal in reply, “if I could trust you, I'd tell you what I think.” “I'll give you my name, then,” replied the other, “if you doubt me;” he accordingly whispered it to him, and the conversation proceeded.